There are many phonetic and linguistical differences between Ngakarimojong and English. Both cultures find the other language difficult to speak, partly because of their different phonetic sounds - sounds that the other culture is accustomed to speaking naturally.

For instance:
In Ngakarimojong, some letters are interchangeable - s and th, f and p, l and r. Most of this is just the fact that they can't really hear the difference. In English, there is a MAJOR difference if you switch out certain letters. "Put it there" becomes "Foot it there" and so on.
I love these little cultural differences. It makes life hilarious. E.g.....

It was a nice, sunny day in Karamoja. I was baking bread in our kitchen, sweat running down my face. As I set the dough aside to rise, I heard a strange noise coming in the window - a sort of garbled yelling.

I leaned out the kitchen door to hear my youngest sister's voice raised in song.

"Raaaaaaamen!!!" she sang as she skated across the cement pad. Her song was echoed by five Karimojong kids leaning against our chainlink fence -

"LLAAAAAMEEENNN!!!!!!" they cried.

I started to smile. Anna and Mary came to the door, along with Megan, our teacher. We all started laughing.

"Sister RAMEN!!!!" cried Kipsy as she swung around a pole.

"THIITHTA LLAMEN!!!!"

"How I love you!!!!"

"'OW AA RAV OOO!!!"

"Raa - amen!!!!"

"LAA-AMENNN!!!!!"

By this time, we were all entirely dying of laughter. Kipsy then proceeded to replace "Ramen" with all the names of her various siblings. We all stood in the kitchen, cracking up at their "Karimojonglish".

Kipsy slouched into Math class this morning, a disgruntled air about her.

"What's up, Kip?" I asked.

"Dude. The Lamen kids are outside again, and I want to go sing."

Her face broke into a bemused grin as she watched me collapse with laughter.

Like I said, it makes life hilarious.

heaven-sent comic relief

We were driving through Kampala at night, going back to the house where we were staying. Conversation was at a minimum, and we all stared out the windows, earnestly wishing for the traffic to move more quickly.

Mary started giggling. "That lady stuck her tongue out at me!" she said, pointing out the window.

We all shushed her and resumed staring out at the traffic.

"No, really!" she insisted, pointing at a matatu (taxi) that was pulling up alongside us.

Sure enough, in the back seat, there was a middle-aged woman making faces at us, sticking out her tongue and waving her arms. They started giggling, and the rest of us couldn't help smiling. The matatu fell behind again, and we all burst into conversation - "Did you see that?" "What was she doing?"

A few minutes later, heralded by "Here she comes!" and "Look, look, there she is!"the matatu came alongside of us again, the woman still making faces at us. I smiled and waved, and she paused her antics to grin back momentarily before resuming the show. This time, we all laughed out loud until the traffic moved her out of sight.

The matatu passed us again and again, and every time the hilarity grew until we were gasping for breath. Even the parents were chuckling.

Finally, the matatu pulled over to unload, and our van burst into cries of, "Aw,
man!" and "That was hilarious!" We then started doing imitations of her more funny moments, and everyone was soon laughing again.

I glimpsed a dark hand raised above the traffic, waving goodbye, and I waved back until I could see it no longer.